Run
by kenzienine
Summary: We sort of just drifted together, until it felt like you had always been there, you had always been with me. I cried more than the other guys, but you never seemed to mind. Clyde/Bebe
1. Chapter 1

I stare at her fingers as they hook the loose strand behind her ear, and even that embarrasses her. She never hated it when I stared before today, and she won't explain it to me either. I can't will myself to stop. I put my graduation cap back into the closet, and bury it so far down that no one will ever find it, not even me, because I have to.

"Want to go get some coffee or food or something?" She looks me in the eye for like the first time today, nodding. We've never really called each other by our names, because even that always felt like too much space, way too much space. We make our way through the door connecting my bedroom to the kitchen of the small apartment I shared with Craig, and spill out into the blinding light of the sun. I pause, trying to let my eyes adjust to the brightness, but she keeps a steady rhythm towards my car, reaching the passenger side and trying the door.

"Hey, the door's locked." I snap from my disoriented state and fish around in my jeans pocket for my keys, hitting 'unlock' as I close the distance between me and my car. "Thanks," she says with a sad smile. _Her_ smile, the one I thought was vastly more disorienting than the light of a thousand suns. When we begin the drive, I find myself wondering what she's thinking about, and whether it's good or sad or scary. I wonder if she's telling lies or finding the truth or maybe a little of both. A Little of Both is the curse of humanity. I know she knows exactly what I'm thinking, because it's never different and it's always her. She put her hand on top of mine as I started to flip through radio stations. She knows how my hands always have to move; she's used to this, and actually told me once that she thinks it's nice. _It's human, you know?_ _It's your thing, s_he had said. _It makes me want to hold your hand._ The memory of that conversation, of a time when we needed nothing but to touch each other, always makes me smile. She covers my hand with hers and we turn the dial together, like we've always done. I realize that we're both trying to pretend that nothing's changed. We both know that everything has.

Country rap oldies hip hop commercial pop country country country commercial YELLING commercial commercial Beethoven stop. We loved the classical station. She always used to say it made her feel important. _You are important anyways_ I told her, before I could tell her something other than how beautiful she is. Our hands crank up the volume together, because I told her once that it made me feel epic. She laughed the whole day after I told her that. She hasn't laughed today. She hasn't let go of my hand either. I wonder if she actually understands that I'm in love with her. I squeeze her fingers in the palm of my hand and rub the pads with my thumb. She looks up at me; she knows what I mean, so we leave it at that. We pull up to the small, crowded café, and I take a deep breath, cutting the engine. She's looking out the window, and I wonder if she would hate me for letting go of her hand. I have to let go, and we get out of the car. There's a storm in her eyes, dark and cloudy, and I feel like turning around and going back. Instead, I lift my arm up and around her shoulders, because I know she feels safe like this. She tenses up as soon as I pull her close, and I pretend that I didn't notice. She pretends that I'm not pretending.

The coffee shop is buzzing with activity, so I find a table for two in the back corner. I raise my eyebrows at her in a question, and she pats my shoulder and sits down. _You know what I drink_ is the silent request. I nod, give her what I desperately wish was a reassuring smile, and take slow steps to the counter.

"Hey Clyde, what can I get you man?" Kenny McCormick pops up from behind the counter, his Harbucks visor sitting crooked on his head.

"Can I just get a medium dark roast with whipped cream on top?" Kenny laughs at my order even though it's what I always ask for. I just like whipped cream.

"Sure, what about for Bebe?"

"She'll have a macchiato with caramel. Thanks."

"No problem dude, they'll be right up." He flashes me another smile and gets to work while I feel around in my wallet for some money. I trade the bills for the coffee and carefully return to the table in the back corner. She doesn't look up at me. She doesn't reach for her coffee. She doesn't do anything. I want to cry. Tears form at the corners of my eyes, and one makes it half way down my cheek before I brush it off in disgust. I sit down and touch her curls, her hands, her lips. She doesn't look up.

"Please tell me what's wrong." She looks straight at me, and her eyes are so dark they're almost black, and I wish she would just look down again. It's almost like she's about to lose some part of herself right here at this table. My mind screams at me to _JUST FUCKING HOLD HER AND DON'T LET GO NO MATTER WHAT,_ but I can't do anything but stare, and now the tears just start coming. She's shaking her head from side to side, never taking her eyes from mine.

"I can't." The sob escapes from my throat, and I desperately want to convince her that I can understand, that I can help her. Doesn't she realize that I understand her better than anyone? My tears blur my vision until I can't see her face. She's still shaking her head, goldenrod curls dancing around her face, the light bouncing off them in all directions. I realize that she can't stand me.

"I – I don't –" I can't do this.

"_Clyde!_" What did she just say? A strangled noise leaves my throat. I want to plug my ears and scream and scream and scream. She never said my name. _She never said my name._ Something is so broken now, something irreversible, and I can't fix it. I need to say nothing, but all I have are words – they're ricocheting off my scull, racing through my veins, swimming in my tears. Words are all I have. She looks like she's going to start crying too. She looks like she wants to take my name back, but if I can't fix it, neither can she.

"Remember that one time we went ice skating the night of the first snow five years ago? Or was it six? I taught you how to skate backwards. Maybe it was seven. You caught on so fucking quickly –"

"I can't do this anymore." You can't do what anymore?

I pick up my coffee with whipped cream, piping hot, and throw it all back in one swallow. It tastes like sugar on fire, and my throat burns. She won't take her eyes off of mine, and they're suddenly so incredibly dark and so incredibly clear. _I know every inch of you_ mine say as she stares into them. I watch her understand, and rip us apart. _I can't hide, not from you_ she tells me without speaking a word, and then slowly rises from her chair. I watch her slice at the rope of us until we hang by a thread. One thread connecting 'me' and 'you' into 'us'. She can't take it any longer, and I see the tears begin to spill from her eyes, matching mine. She looks away from me, severing that last thread, and walks to my car, leaving the drink I bought for her untouched. I grab the drink and follow her out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yeah I know this story is like super indulgent, but I can't get it out of my head. **

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><p>I remember so much from when I was a kid. I remember Pancake Wednesdays with my mother. I remember when Craig and I used to go to Token's house to watch the Lion King in the basement, and how I would bury my face in the hat Craig always wore and cry at the part when Scar died. Not because I liked him, but because fire terrified me. I always cried more than the other guys. I remember fishing in the pond with my dad and walking Rex when I got home from school with my dad and doing math homework after dinner with my dad. I remember playing super heroes with the other boys in my neighborhood. All of them except for Craig, because he hated being around those other guys. I remember when Cartman beat me up, and Craig made me eat a pint of chocolate ice cream because he knew that I'd feel better after. I remember so much, but the funny thing is I can't remember ever really meeting you. We sort of just drifted together, until it felt like you had always been there, you had always been with me. I cried more than the other guys, but you never seemed to mind.<p>

I remember all of the things you did that hurt me, how I felt so bad when you told me that the stupid list wasn't real. Why didn't you just ask for the shoes? _Don't you know I would do anything for you?_ I had said, and you stood up on your tip toes and whispered _I know_ into my ear, and your eyes were shining a little too brightly. I remember trying not to think about you in the fifth grade, sitting cross-legged on Red Tucker's bed. I was staring at a girl I didn't know and she was staring at me. We were supposed to kiss for seven minutes, but I just couldn't do it. Not if it wasn't you. Besides, this wasn't Heaven. I didn't know what Heaven was then, but I knew what it wasn't. I remember how I couldn't read your eyes as I ran from the room. I wish now that I never learned how. I remember my first kiss. It was our first kiss – we were dangling our toes in the water off of the Stark's Pond Dock. I wonder how many kids had their first kiss there. It was the first time you let me touch your hair too. When you pulled away and ran across the field, your laughter scaring the birds out of hiding, I knew I couldn't love anyone else. You were always faster than me.

I remember when Craig stuck gum in your hair that one time in sixth grade. I hated him for that. Wendy took your hand and pushed you towards the girls' bathroom, glaring at me. But I was only smiling because, even with gum stuck in it, you had the prettiest hair I'd ever seen. You are the prettiest girl I will ever see. When you were gone, I punched Craig in the nose, and he ended up in the principal's office for flipping me off, chewing a new piece of Juicy Fruit. I hated my best friend, but I loved watching the blood pour from his face. I remember how we held hands through the doors of the high school, and how you wouldn't let go when the bell rang, so I sat in your class instead of going to mine. At lunch, you ripped my detention slip into 300 pieces. _Not on your first day ever_, you told me. I went to detention anyway.

I remember the perfect Valentine's Day of our junior year. It was perfect because you understood me. You set up a picnic out in the snow, and we froze our asses off eating the mass amounts of the chocolate you brought. We had chocolate for dinner. We poured hot chocolate from thermoses into wine glasses; we ate raspberry filled candy hearts with silver forks and knives. We ate through last year's old Christmas and Halloween candy. I was so full of chocolate that I couldn't even sit up. I remember hoping you didn't get sick. You were curled into my body, head resting on my chest. I remember thinking that you fit there so _perfectly_ that it was kind of scary. We couldn't shut up, and if your voice was the last thing I heard before I died, that would have been okay. Somehow, you convinced Red to convince Token to buy some fireworks illegally and set them off from the top of the hill. I never even looked at the sky, because it was so much better seeing the colors explode in your eyes. And when we couldn't stand the cold anymore, you pulled me running to your house. You were always faster than me. You were always running. I remember sitting on the floor, and we were cross-legged across from each other. I stared at you, and you stared at me. _I have something for you,_ I said, handing you a card I made myself. Did I ever tell you that my mom had to help me with that card? I couldn't draw the hearts well enough for you. She probably did, she loved you. I filled that card cover to cover with words, so many words for you, all of the words that mattered. But never your name, and never mine. That's how we were, and it was perfect.

That day was our first time. With a finger to your lips, you led me into your dad's old study. You had always said it was your favorite room in the whole house. I remember the smell – a sharp smell of ancient leather-bound books, musty yellow pages, and old wooden bookcases, overstuffed armchairs, creaking ladders on tracks. I wondered if this could be heaven, I wondered how many words this room held within its walls. I felt like they were ours. I remember how different it felt to kiss you here, because this time something new was about to change us. I was laughing nervously, and my hands couldn't find something to do, and you had to quiet me, eyes flashing bright with fire and heat in the half-darkness. _My parents are on the other side of this wall stupid,_ you told me, holding back a smile. I remember when you pressed your lips onto mine with too much passion, and I wanted to implode from the force of it all.

We lay on the carpeted floor, quiet as death for once in our lives, listening all the time for the sounds of your mom and dad talking in the next room over. You took off your shirt and I had never seen anything as beautiful as what was before me. We went so incredibly slowly, so unsure of ourselves but so full of love that it made everything okay. _I'm ready_, you said and it was then that I knew exactly what I needed to do, and I made love to you. I remember you asked me why I was crying. I couldn't explain what I felt and I still couldn't now. Are there words that describe what heaven feels like? No. _It hurts_, you said, trembling as you whispered it. I have never seen something so beautiful. _I'm sorry_, I was apologizing for perfection, and you just held me and buried your face into my chest. You told me later that you loved every moment, even the pain, because you got to hold me so close. Close enough for me to become a part of you. I understood what you meant, because you were a part of me too.

I remember graduation. You painted on my cap, and told me to decorate yours. Mine was beautiful; you used my favorite colors – deep red and rich blue. If you had asked me why those were my favorite colors right then, could I have told you? It was a burst of hot and cold and shapes that didn't make sense, but I understood you, so I could understand them. I only had words for you. _Beauty. Intelligence. Incredible. Passion. Inspired. Perfect. Everything. Anything. Music. Absurd. History. Past present future. Gorgeous. Bright. Legends. Storybooks. Songs. I love you. Thoughts. Thoughtful. Thinking. Thinking always of you. Books. Pages. Golden curls. More pages. Space. Art. More songs. Explode. Fireworks. Leather-bound books. Paperback books. Books everywhere. Mine. Yours. There is no one like you. Mountains. You are a part of me. Wonder. Shadows. Understand. Help me. Light. Blue like the sea. Disorienting. Red like living blood. Life. You. Me. Chocolate. Shoes. Will you see the world with me someday? Gods. Goddesses. Halo. My religion is you. Books everywhere. Freedom. You set me free. Beautiful. Extreme. Mountains. Valleys. Shadows. Light. Mine. _I filled it with words until there was no room left. I filled up the inside and I filled up the outside and I filled up the inside again. I wrote words in every crevice, wrote them into every seam and stitch. I wondered if there were enough words to show you, and let you know me. To let you see me. The colors on my cap were those of your father's study. You practically ran onto the stage and accepted your diploma covered in my words, and it hurt me, because suddenly I realized that there are no words for you. Why couldn't I see that before? Did you see it?

I remember that summer, we spent alone. My friends called and called and called, but there was only you. All we could do was talk; we couldn't get the words out fast enough. We spent days talking about the future, about leaving, about college and growing up. I told you I was excited, but you knew me too well to believe that. I will never be able to lie to you. I remember the day you told me you decided to drop school out on the East Coast and had enrolled at the local community college instead. You were smiling, but your eyes were clouded over and I remember I didn't know what color they were. You didn't have to tell me to back out too, and we found me and Craig a place together, close to the community school. It didn't matter where I went if I got to keep you. But I had forgotten how much faster than me you are.

Something happened to you, something I will never understand. It meant that something happened to us. We stopped talking, the words stopped, they were drying up. I wondered how I could have so many of them in the spring, and if maybe words were like leaves. Maybe they died in the fall. Soon, I only had three words left: _You Are Beautiful._ If you wanted to stop in a store at the mall, I said _You Are Beautiful_. On the rare moments you asked me what I was thinking, the only thing I could force from my mouth was _You Are Beautiful._ When you said you'd be in the kitchen if I needed anything, I said _You Are Beautiful._ It was all I had left. I could feel you drifting away from me, like God had skipped forward in the pages of our perfect story and changed the ending just enough to matter. How could God decide to change something that was written before time? _I'm so tired,_ you said once, right before it was too late, _so fucking tired._ You were trying to save us, trying to help me save you, but I couldn't, because I didn't know what happened. I didn't know what I did to change you; I didn't even know if it was me who did. I said _You Are Beautiful_, and when you cringed I knew what it meant. I knew that those were the only words you could hate, the only ones you hated _me_ for. I _knew, _but they were all I had left. I destroyed you with them. I told them to you again and again: _You Are Beautiful_. I sang it: _You Are Beautiful. _I shouted it: _YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!_ I began to see how deeply you had begun to hate me; it killed me inside. So I began to say nothing. When we shared lunch in between classes, we said nothing. When we went to the movies, we said nothing. On Valentine's Day, I handed you a blank card.

But I couldn't hold the words inside. I began to say them with my eyes. It didn't matter, because you could read those all the same. We spoke to each other with our eyes.

_You know what I like._

_You Are Beautiful._

_What movie are you in the mood for?_

_You Are Beautiful._

_I'll see you tomorrow._

_You Are Beautiful._

I wish my eyes could have said anything else. I wish they could have given you the words you needed to see. I wish you could have told me what happened, and how to save you, to go in reverse and try again. I remember catching you kneeling on the floor of your room once. You had taken out that old graduation cap, and I saw the ink running when your tears hit the words. That was when I realized how completely I had failed you. Your tears erased my words, and I couldn't bring them back again. Why couldn't you run towards me instead of away? I didn't understand. I walked back to my car and I went home. I didn't even have _You Are Beautiful_ left_._

I remember the next day, opening the door and seeing you stand there. The sun turned you into an angel. I saw how you couldn't read my eyes, but what you didn't understand that there was nothing to read. This time, I had nothing to tell you. You sat on my bed and let me touch your hair. You saw me trying to hold it all together. I went to my closet and found my graduation cap, and you watched me hold it close to my chest. You knew that's where you should have been resting your head, we both knew how perfectly you fit against me. _I never told you why I love these colors, _I broke our silence. I broke it because I remembered how to save you. I remembered too late. _They don't go together_, you said_. _I looked at you and I wondered if the answer would save you, or if it really was too late. I tried, I couldn't look at you and not. _They're the colors of your dad's study._ You smiled and I thought maybe it had worked. _Want to go get some coffee or food or something? _I remember how you wouldn't let go of my hand. The whole drive you needed to touch me; it gave me a bad feeling. We're you saying goodbye?

I thought about your tears washing away my words. And now I couldn't cry at all.

I remember driving to your house after in nothing but silence. I walked you to the door and the space grew in between us. The space grew in the raw void left by love. I knew that you were running, and you didn't care if I knew or not. That was what changed us. You were always running, but now you didn't want me to catch up. You were always faster than me. I drove home 20 above the speed limit and locked the door to the whole apartment; I didn't even open it for Craig. I spent the day on the floor, eating left over Christmas chocolate with a fork and knife, and chewing every stick of Juicy Fruit I could find in Craig's desk drawers. The next day you were gone, and they told me everything they knew. You were always running. There was no note explaining why you left or where you were going, and your room was empty and clean – but the fucking _study_. The books in your dad's study were wrenched from the shelves until all littered the floor. Pages were everywhere – ripped, shredded, stabbed – random words circled or crossed out in red pen. When you destroyed that room, you destroyed so much more than ink on paper. You destroyed everything that was right about what we were. I hated you, and the tears finally let themselves fall.

You were always running, but this time you ran.


End file.
